Reflections in a Pensieve
by Gryffindorian2014
Summary: Draco called it a 'cosmic conspiracy' that brought them together but one thing was certain, no two persons were so different. Despite belonging to the two ends of the societal spectrum they fought together and found a common ground to grow together and re-defined faith. WIP. ON HIATUS.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: This fanfiction is written purely for entertainment purposes and no monetary gain is being made off it. Any violation of trademark and copyright infringement is unintentional. The rights belong to its respective member(s) and I seek nothing to be gained from this venture.**

**A/N: Thank you internet for the lovely cover. So this is going to be my first multi-chaptered novel/novella fic in the Harry Potter fandom. To be honest, I have only figure out the beginning and the end. The total number of chapters hasn't been decided upon yet, but I suppose that because this being my first lengthy fic I won't be able to pull off more than a 10-chapter feat. But then again, you never know.**

**I'm working on the first two chapters and will be updating them in the end of this month or in the first week of April, after that you can expect regular updates as my boards (exams) will be over! YAAY! Can't wait for that.**

**Alright you lovelies,**

**Enjoy!**

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**Reflections in a Pensieve**

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**Prologue**

Malfoy Manor, 7th July, 2015.

Outside, the world looked drenched in every possible shade of gray, from the dull gray brought on by the menacing clouds that thickly blanketed the sky to the steel gray of the placid waters-now a turbulent white, of the large lake that the Malfoy Manor overlooked.

He paced quietly in his study, his steps measured. To the trained eye, however, the deep contemplativeness in his pacing would've been evident. The light filtering through the glass of the massive Victorian portrait window outlined his tall, svelte form in an otherwise dark room.

The heir to the Malfoy fortune stopped his pacing and stood in front of the window, so close so that his forehead touched and his breath misted the smooth panes of glass. His longish platinum blonde hair reached below his ears and fell over tired, stunning molten silver eyes, which had turned a dull gray shadowed with emotion, stared impassively at the turbulence the pellets of water from the clouds were causing.  
The lake reflected his present state of mind perfectly.

Draco would've found the entire situation to be amusing for its 'melodramatic-aptness' if it hadn't been for him to be passing through what was rivaling the darkest period of his life- his reluctant allegiance to the fallen Dark Lord.

His gaze, of its own accord flittered to the ornate crystal cabinet that stood in quiet elegance in one corner of his study. Even from afar he could visualize all of its contents in order. The lower shelf held an antique silver pensieve-a family heirloom and the upper shelves held numerous vials of memories-evidence, _she_ called them.

Draco felt his chest constrict at the line of his thoughts, it was like a physical blow to the gaping hollowness in him that was spreading, overwhelming his senses and turning him numb. Having been brought up between two people bound in a marriage of convenience, a deranged aunt and under the influence of a delusional wizard with no shred of sanity and his hoard of sycophantic followers who never knew better, had conditioned him to be reserved by nature and not harbour any sentiments that were characteristic of the Gryffindor folk, of _her_.

The two of them couldn't have been any more different. As contradicting as they came, they belonged to the extremes of the spectrum of society, brought up with polar opposite values and lifestyles, yet, they had unerringly been brought together in what could only be described as a cosmic conspiracy. Fate was amusing like that. Despite the obvious differences and vast psycho-social gap they had found and worked together to a common ground of affection and nurturing. They completed one another in every possible way - where she was incorruptible, he was devious, where she was forthcoming there he was a closed book and so on and so forth.

Perhaps, deep down they were made up of the same stuff, curious, affection-seeking and a little insecure only buried under differentiated layers of nurture's influence.

There had been this instant connection that was laced with an undercurrent of something that went much deep and what Draco deduced was of an intrinsic nature that made him take those final steps with her. Of course there was also the shallower aspect of attraction and it had most definitely helped that he was an attractive man and that she had an indefinable air of beauty about her that was charged with vitality and warmth. In many ways, she reminded him of a glorious summer after a dreary winter, or the first drop of rain on parched soil.

Sealing the open doors with a non-verbal wave of his wand, Draco made his way to the cabinet and touched his wand to the crystal knob to retrieve the pensieve. His long, pale fingers skimmed over the innumerable vials before he levitated the pensieve and the vials to the low coffee table by the fireplace.

Draco sat down on the high backed armchair opposite the table, crossed his legs and balanced the silver heirloom on his knee. Uncorking a vial he stared at its contents. Meticulously labelled ' D. Malfoy and H. Granger' the vial contained a volume of a bright thread-like substance, the substance gave off an eerie glow of ghost light that cast his uncommon eyes into a muted iridescence.

It wasn't as if he'd really need those to remember. Every moment spent with her was branded in his mind's eye with startling clarity. It was only on Hermione persisting on her quest to capture and 'document' all of their lives that he gave in,

"Do we really need to do this?" he had asked.

"Of course!" she had exclaimed, before adding in her know-it-all tone "We are human beings, and it's our compulsive need to document our lives"

(He really hadn't had a choice, she would've nagged his ear off otherwise), he recalled with a chuckle.  
Then again age had a tendency to muddle one's perception however immaculate, which consequently led to a loss of objectivity in memories of the past. Draco found himself feeling glad that he had complied to her wishes once again (which was more often than not).

He found himself wrought with regret over everything that he should have done and said to her and did not.  
"Regret," she used to say, "was only a step from remorse"  
He had found himself listening to her then and now he agreed wholeheartedly.

Absently fingering the ornate serpents with emerald-studded eyes on the rim of the family Pensieve, Draco wondered if he should have made his feelings for her more clear, been more persuasive, perhaps then she still would have been with him, by him right now, running her small hands over face smothering him with kisses and gently coaxing him to calm down.

He missed her so much that the agony of it left him gasping for breath, desperate to cling on to any illusion of the warmth that she had taken away with her, leaving him in the cold. And today, this very treasure trove of memories was the only thing that was separating him from her.  
Without a second consideration he poured all of its contents into the pensieve and watched how its surface broke into ripples and caught the dying light of the day in a reflection of hazy contours of colours and black and white merging at each other's seams.

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**Okay, so I would obviously be over the moon if you guys leave your lovely reviews as encouragement (bribe, actually) *wink wink***  
**Have a great day people!  
Chapter 1 and 2 will be up soon.**


	2. Chapter 1 - The Trial

**A/N: So here's the first chapter! Yay to me. I swear I completed this on the 21****st**** but my internet connection was down because my broadband was fried due to a short circuit.  
Anyway so here I am with this update. I can't promise but I'll surely try to update at least once a week. This year is really getting hectic with college entrances and me working part time and teaching kids for some extra cash and all that.**

**And I still haven't figured out my map for this fic, I'm simply writing what I feel I should. I've always wanted to cover the first few years after the war; I've not yet read a fic where the months after the war, i.e. the trials and turbulence of a society just out of war are covered. So yes I'm trying this without any real inspiration or idea – let's see where it heads, right?**

**It'll be really kind of you guys if you'd leave me a PM on what should the probable scenario if I'm making a mistake anywhere.**

**I really hope you guys are having a great day!  
Cheers!**

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**Chapter One – The Trial**

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"Harry! Ronald! Hurry up we've got to get to the Ministry in five minutes" Hermione called loudly, craning her neck upwards from the ground floor landing of 12 Grimmauld Place.

She made her way to the parlour and righted her overcoat collar, in the middle of taming her riotous waist length curls into a formal bun_.  
I really need a haircut. _She thought. _Oh bugger, I'll get one after the trial._

Hermione checked her wristwatch and clicked her tongue, the boys were going to make them late and boy, did she hate being unpunctual.  
"Harry James Potter and Ronald Weasley will you two hurry up and get your lazy bums downstairs?!"  
She shrieked, "Immediately!"

"Just a minute Mione', I can't find my right sock. Ron has misplaced it" Harry responded, sounding distraught.

"For heaven's sake Harry, just find another pair!" Hermione shouted back exasperatedly.

"But they're my lucky ones!" replied Harry.

"Yes mom!" she heard Ron grumble loudly and rolled her eyes.

"Why do you need your lucky pair at all? It's Malfoy's hearing, not yours."

I swear these boys will be the reason I'll have a head of grey

_by the time I turn twenty-five!_

After a solid ten minutes of suspiciously loud banging upstairs and a very angry Hermione later, Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley thumped down the stairs creating quite a racket whilst congratulating each other on the success of finding Harry's lucky pair of socks, which Hermione noted, were a particularly violent shade of violet with green stripes. Hermione wanted to roll her eyes once again at their immature behaviour.

_Seriously, who'd believe that these two were the same boys played a crucial role in Lord Voldemort's defeat?  
_

But she felt compelled to overlook this as that particular pair was a gift from Dobby, the deceased free house-elf, who was still a touchy topic with her raven-haired best friend.

Hermione glanced at Harry and Ron now pulling on their overcoats and felt a genuine smile tugging at the corner of her lips. _This, this is my family_, she thought, and simultaneously came to the staggering conclusion once again that she'd have gladly put her life on the line for the boys any day, _her boys. _She thought fondly before ushering them to the door.

Sparing the space a final look she flicked her wand and repositioned the elephant-leg of an umbrella stand and changed the calendar reading December '97 to February '98.

"What?" she asked, raising one eyebrow at the both boy's joint expressions of disbelief.  
"Weren't we getting late just about a minute ago?" Ron asked, shaking his head dramatically whilst Harry shrugged noncommittally.

"We were," Hermione said pointedly and Ron grumbled under his breath about not getting enough sleep, "and now we are getting a move on."

With that the three of them linked their arms together and Hermione apparated them to the Ministry of Magic.

* * *

The Ministry of Magic was naturally, a very busy place taking into account of it being the centre of various independent, joint and co-operative ventures and the central seat for socio-economic and political control of wizarding London. However, the months after the second wizarding war had seen the Ministry at its busiest, bustling with ministry officials and numerous people flooing and apparating in and out for duty, war trials, pending official work, recruiting new workers, organizing new economic ventures and reviving International Relations with other wizarding communities in various parts of the world.

Similarly, today was no exception; in fact the Ministry looked full to bursting point. Throngs of wizards and witches of all ages had collected in the newly restored atrium waiting in advance for the verdict of what could be considered the decade's most sensational, consequently most-attended trial. Today, the Malfoy family were scheduled to stand trial for their involvement with the fallen Dark Lord and all the crimes they'd committed under his regime.  
Despite the obvious distaste and blatant hatred writ large on the faces of the entire population gathered this late morning, the Malfoys stood in dignified silence forming a half-circle surrounded by a brigade of Aurors lead by stand-in head Auror Dean Thomas to keep the hostile crowd at bay.

Hermione, Harry and Ron made their way towards their fellow ex-Gryffindor without effort as the crowd parted, absolutely star-struck seeing Harry Potter himself. A multitude of camera lights went off at once and Hermione groaned, hurriedly hiding between the two taller boys.

"Harry, Hermione, Ron, you guys are just in time. We're scheduled for court in two minutes." Dean said in way of greeting, "now if you'll follow me gentlemen and ladies", the trio nodded and followed the Malfoys led by Dean into the elevator.

The group stood in an awkward silence except for the occasional polite exchange between Narcissa Malfoy, Harry and Dean. Lucius Malfoy kept his eyes firmly averted from the general direction of the rest of the group, even Ron, who was in most circumstances, the most talkative, stood rather stiff and Hermione quickly found the source of his apparent uneasiness. It was only then that she noticed Draco Malfoy standing with a seemly calm right next to Ron.  
If Hermione hadn't found herself so intrigued all of a sudden by the said Malfoy, she might have found Ron's unease absolutely hilarious.

He was still the same, she noted, yet...somewhat... different.

Something had changed in the way he looked around now; that entire I-own-the-damn-world attitude and the arrogance he carried in his mannerisms had left his demeanour, replaced by a more dignified awareness and a certain sense of maturity that differentiated men from boys. But Hermione did not miss the way his shoulders were a little slumped, or how he kept clenching and unclenching his fingers-as if in a dilemma whether to crack his knuckles or not. His normally immaculate slicked back hair was in careless disarray and his striking eyes were dulled with faint dark circles around them.

She _certainly_ did not miss that Draco barely acknowledged his father's presence.

As if feeling her stare, Draco turned his head, too quick for her to avert her gaze, and looked directly at her, his eyebrows raised in mild surprise in his otherwise expressionless face. For a moment Hermione was at sea in an attempt to gauge what should be an appropriate reaction, but she was spared the ordeal as the Malfoy matriarch addressed Draco under her breath, conveniently diverting his attention.

Hermione found herself letting out a long, relieved sigh.

* * *

"Alright then," said Dean when all of them had stepped out the elevator that had brought them to the final level of the Wizengamot, " you and your family will be escorted by Auror Jones, Harry and you two you come along with me' Dean said, smoothly issuing orders. The group bifurcated into two and carried on their separate ways.

"Bloody hell, what's with them?"  
Hermione heard Ron say as he dusted his overcoat in an exaggerated manner.

"Honestly Ron, they didn't say a word. There is no need to make such a big deal out of sharing an elevator with them", Hermione retorted, she distantly heard Ron say something in response but was too annoyed with herself to pay attention wondering why was she even bothered defending the Malfoys at all.

Draco wondered for the umpteenth time whether his mother's asking the 'Golden Trio' to help in their trial was a good idea at all, but he knew better than to raise the question once again.

"Mother, couldn't we simply do this without involving Potter? ", he had asked, aggravated that even with his school life over for good, there was simply no reprieve from The Boy Who Wanted In, in Everyone's Business.

"Draco, Mr. Potter has kindly assented might I say, in his own volition, to aid us in this trial. It will do you a world of good to leave behind your silly boyhood antics and be grateful for his generous help. Mr. Potter is, after all, the face of the new order"

_Sure, Scarhead is practically jumping to help us._ Draco thought sarcastically.

He walked in silence behind his mother letting his mind wander. If anything, it was odd-slightly nostalgic seeing his old schoolmates, even the bleeding Gryffindors. Hogwarts seemed so far away in time, he wondered if all of it was only a dream. At least Weasley has learnt to his trap shut, something good has come out of the war. However, he found his mind zeroing on Hermione Granger... _Hermione_.  
Her name was strangely pleasing to say.  
_  
She's different. _He remembered her as an interfering know-it-all who shepherded The Boy Who Just Wouldn't Die and Weasel around the Hogwarts corridors_._ Either way it wasn't as if he had paid much attention to her as a person because their only encounters in school was always in the context of him bullying or insulting her. The witch surly knew how to retort. _Merlin had that punch hurt. That witch had to be crazy!_  
Now that school was over and the days of childish behaviour had long since passed, he was only left with the way her sincere brown eyes had stared at him in the elevator. Her gaze was almost curious. It was filled with an innocence that betrayed the reality of all that she had been through, they made her look...pure, untouched, whole. Draco had certainly not expected her to be around, smiling, arm in arm with Weasley and Potter, not after what his deranged Aunt had put her through, he felt his gut twist painfully at the images her mind fed him with. She only made it too easy to forget the darkness. Then again, she probably had much more in her than what he accredited her with. After all, Hermione Granger wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing.

Theirs was a fate joined by a psychopath which went off in a domino effect the one time when he tried to kill an infant Potter. Draco was still in the dark about how Harry Potter had survived two killing curses, he thought of the two people who could've answered the question- one being his late godfather and the other, a headmaster whom he'd unsuccessfully attempted to kill-he felt his chest twinge painfully at that.  
As much as he put faith in his father's claims that Dumbledore was nothing but a lunatic and old fool who needed to be eliminated from Hogwarts, Draco couldn't but feel a little awed at the wizened wizard's imposing stature and kindly blue eyes that radiated hard-acquired wisdom.

It went without saying that his memories of Hogwarts were not shiny, like that of a sunny summer in London but rather that of a sinister nightmare that he was sure collectively shared by all those who'd been involved and then survived the battle of Hogwarts. The glorious carefree days of the first few years at Hogwarts seemed like another lifetime.

In retrospect, Draco had found that he had always trusted his godfather but he was too late to realize that he should've simply put a little more faith in Albus Dumbledore on that fateful night up in the Astronomy tower.

_Life would've certainly been different then._

* * *

"Mr. Potter, is it true that Mr. Malfoy did not intend to cast the unforgivable in the Astronomy tower?"

"Yes. He was lowering his wand. It was Professor Snape"

"And were you present during the entire ordeal?"

"I was. Professor Dumbledore had made it impossible for me to move having stunned and concealed me"

The Chief warlock and his subordinates, once more put their heads together, deep in discussion.

The courtroom was abuzz with murmurs and the occasional loud remark as the prosecution examined and cross-examined Draco Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy had escaped the Dementor's kiss and was convicted with one-hundred and sixty seven charges against him and sentenced to only twenty-seven years in Azkaban solely on Harry's statement.  
Personally, Hermione thought that it was simply unjust; Lucius Malfoy was practically walking away scot-free. Although she wanted to give Harry a good talking to for being an idiot in aiding the elder Malfoy, she couldn't help but admire him either. Harry was forgiving like that.

She refocused her attention to the court proceedings and waited till she was called to give her statement in defense of Draco. Hermione made her way to join Harry in the centre of the courtroom where Draco was seated in the antique high-backed armchair, waiting his verdict.

After the general round of usual questions from the prosecution, Malcolm, who was the chief warlock for the trials asked, "Isn't it true that you were a target of Mr. Malfoy throughout your earlier years in Hogwarts."  
It was clear that Malcolm was annoyed he could not have his way with the Malfoy trial and had to settle for less-than-harsh charges against them.

Hermione, who was expecting this, answered promptly, "Yes, it is true Malfoy and I never got along at school, but I hardly think that can be held against him as all of us were only children", Before she proceeded to add," And I did get my own back."Harry chuckled discreetly at this and Draco turned on her once again, the amusement subtle, but unmistakable in his eyes.

With that, the jury ruled in favour of Draco and he was let with three months of Probation.

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"The jury is mental I tell you! Letting that git Malfoy go off like that!" said an angry Ron to Hermione who nodded and 'hmm-ed' absently looking for a head of unruly black among the crowd pouring out of the courtroom doors. When Hermione chanced another look inside the court she saw Harry deep in conversation with Narcissa, standing alongside a self-absorbed Draco.

"Ron, come on, I found Harry" said Hermione and tugged him by the sleeve, pulling him inside the doors.

"Oi! Harry! We were looking all over the bloody place for you. Why did you..." Ron started loudly as soon as he caught sight of his best friend but was cut short by Hermione, "Ouch that hurt 'Mione!" he grunted, rubbing his arm where she had pinched to keep him quiet.

"Miss. Granger, Mister Weasley, how do you do?" the Malfoy matriarch greeted politely having caught sight of them.

"Mrs. Malfoy, how do you do?" Hermione said smiling graciously while a sulky Ron mumbled something unintelligible.

"I'm sorry to have kept Mr. Potter waiting. I was only asking him for tea this Saturday; would you two care to join?" Narcissa asked.

"Well...we...um", Hermione started nervously, not sure whether she was ready to take a trip down the memory lane by visiting the Malfoy Manor.

"Oh yes Ron and Hermione would love to, thank you Mrs. Malfoy." Harry exclaimed.

"Very well then, I'll be expecting the four of you this Saturday at the Manor then."

"Eh...four?" Harry asked, confused.

"Oh! How silly of me to not mention it. Surely, Mr. Potter you'll bring the lovely Miss. Weasley with yourself?"

Harry blushed at the mention of his fiancé and agreed with a goofy smile.

When Hermione craned her neck behind Harry's back to look for Ron who had disappeared on her, her eyes met Draco's.

Suddenly, Hermione was all but too aware of the way his eyes pierced into hers and held her stare with his level, gray stare. She consciously patted her hair and vaguely considered that Draco Malfoy had stunning eyes. They were very much like his Father's, she observed, but less cold so and a great deal brighter with a circle of pure arctic white separating his pupils from the temperamental gray. She noted the way his thick golden lashes lent an alluring frame to his already uncommon eyes. _Its_ _official_, Hermione thought, _Draco_ _Malfoy_ _has_ _the_ _most_ _beautiful_ _eyes_ _she_ _had_ _seen_ _on_ _anyone_.

_Alright, time to stop lusting after Malfoy's eyes._

Acutely aware of the fact that she was staring, rather impolitely, for the second time; Hermione cleared her suddenly dry throat and whispered an inarticulate "hello..."

Draco, on his part, was intrigued by her silent assessment of him. He noticed that Hermione had indeed grown up and was a far cry from the awkward, untamed-hair-and-big-toothed teenager he'd known at school. Her hair was still bushy, although it was much longer than he remembered and looked outlandishly sensual coaxed into that low bun while a few tendrils of her riotous hair had escaped to outline her face.

His train of thoughts was interrupted when Hermione greeted him; Draco was suddenly at a loss and began fumbling in his mind for the right thing to say. _What do you say to a girl...woman whom you've tormented all through your school life when she tries to make polite conversation?_

Not wanting to seem incoherent Draco settled for acknowledging her with a tip of his head and a small smile, careful not to go overboard with it.

Hermione opened her mouth, about to say something when she noticed at the same time as Draco that the other's had fallen silent and were waiting for them to finish whatever silent conversation it was that they were presently occupied with.

Hermione blushed not knowing exactly why she did so and mumbled a goodbye while Draco cleared his throat and offered his arm to Narcissa, "Mother." And before leaving, "Potter, thanks". Shooting Hermione another nod he turned around and walked down the now empty corridor, his head of prominent platinum blonde visible right till the end. 

"Well, that surely was awkward" concluded Hermione and Harry nodded saying, "I still can't believe Malfoy could pull off saying 'Potter' and 'Thanks' in the same sentence."

"If its bothering you that much, I'd like to point out that it really wasn't a sentence" Hermione provided with a wink, and the two burst out laughing.

"Bloody hell it was" Ron finally agreed, apparently not having found humour in Hermione's joke.

"The Burrow?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, I'm starving!" said Ron on whom the entire meaning was lost while Harry blushed once again.

Maybe it was because Ron was hungry. Nothing unusual, she thought with a mental laugh.

The decidedly empty atrium saw a guffawing pair with a puzzled red-head while the familiar crack of apparition echoed all the way through its halls.

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**Darling readers, wouldn't it be a bit kind to leave some lovely, lovely opinions?  
Please do so dearies! Trust me, they are therapeutic to us.**


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